Geostigma Kills
by Evantis
Summary: Freak. Monster. Ugly. That was all Cloud knew himself as. Timid. Alone. Scared. That's how he lived. But not anymore. [LeonCloud, Akuroku]
1. Chapter 1: Sunrise

* * *

Geostigma Kills

By: Evantis

* * *

Rated: M 

Summary: Freak. Monster. Ugly. That was all Cloud knew himself as. Timid. Alone. Scared. That was how he lived. But not anymore. [LeonCloud

For Nut. 'Kay, Nut – I _know_ you're not a big fan of LeonCloud, but there _is_ Akuroku, y'know.

Okay, this is my new project. Well…it's not really new. I started on this fic about six months ago. I actually planned for it to be one long oneshot, but I changed my mind. I've actually written most of it, but I've divided the story into parts, and this is the first chapter.

Note: This fic contains implied sex in later chapters. Nothing graphic, but if it still bothers you, then just press the back button. The pairing is mainly LeonCloud, but there is Akuroku, a little RikuSora, implied TidusYuna, and if you squint, maybe you can interpret AuronTidus. Also, geostigma is a disease taken from Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children. Though the disease is somewhat alike to the one I have in my story, most of the properties disease in this story are made up by me, and evolution I plan for it later is completely fictitious.

I hope the story isn't too confusing or boring.

Please read, enjoy and review! X)

* * *

_Chapter One_: Sunrise 

-

Cloud knows that in this world, everything is biased.

There's a sordid reality nobody can change. Cloud knows that if you're a cleaner, it will be near impossible to befriend an important entrepreneur. He knows that if you have a meagre salary, nobody will think highly of you. He knows that if you look thin and weak, the hottest jock will treat you like a disease. He knows that if you have a huge Adam's apple, or an overload of freckles and pimples, no girl will bother to even glance at you.

And he knows that if you're sick, and your skin is black like charcoal, your face is mangled and mauled, you'll never be accepted.

Not by anyone.

Not in this lifetime.

Cloud knows that beneath the façade of so many well wishes, hypocrites in the charity world – once you're supposedly contagious, nobody will want to help. The aids and donations do not come like water like they do on television; charity organizations will not come with open arms. Because once you're a danger, and you resemble nothing short of a monster, nobody wants to know you anymore. Nobody wants to help you.

There's a lot of crap about the 'look inside, not outside' thing. There's even an old saying, a phrase – "don't judge a book by its cover." But the truth is, nobody is ever going to look inside. They'll judge you from the outside, before they decide if they want to judge you on the inside. Nobody's going to see you – a person with blackish, rotting skin – and say that, "Hey, let's be friends." This isn't a soap opera. This isn't a donation drive on television. This isn't a dream world. This is reality, and in reality, nothing's so simple. Nothing's what it seems.

Cloud knows that for people like him, the only thing they can do is just hide.

And just hope for the better.

* * *

Leon remembers nothing much of his childhood, but there is one incident that is fresh and vivid in his mind, even now. This haunting memory that always managed to drive hot guilt into the pit of stomach, and make him want to throw up. He feels sick with himself, whenever his mind brings that picture into his head. 

He doesn't even know the boy's name. But he knows the boy was in kindergarten with him. And unlike Leon, who was popular and well liked, the boy was hated, discriminated and treated like an outcast. Leon doesn't exactly remember why, but he knows the boy was sick. So terribly sick that his skin was starting to rot. Or at least, that was what it looked like. Leon still remembers the pattern of black devouring the boy's left arm, whenever he changed for physical education classes. He still remembers how, by each day, that streak of black thickened in width, grew in length. He remembers how till one day, the parents started to complain, demand the boy be expelled, for his illness was contagious. The children might catch it.

Leon still remembers how the boy's younger brother and father stood up for him. Leon still remembers how the boy huddled against a tree, his small legs drawn up protectively to his chest, his bewildered blue eyes wrought with hurt and pain. Leon remembers how the headmaster stood valiantly in front of the boy, defending him, saying that the boy's illness was nowhere close to contagious. And Leon wanted to believe the headmaster. No, he didn't want the boy to leave the school. It all felt very wrong.

Leon remembers his own father in the fray. His father – a tall, prominent man with long black hair, and intelligent, bright blue eyes. He remembers his own father jeering at the boy, insulting the headmaster. He still remembers those words of hatred, how his father was part of the group egging the headmaster to expel the outcast. Leon hears those loud noises of protestation, how so many went against an old man, a small-sized father, and a little boy no more than four. He can still hear the sobs and cries of the frightened boy who looked like he wanted nothing more than to melt into the tree somehow. Like he wanted to escape, run away and never come back.

Leon remembers clearly that in the midst of it all, he had been standing in the corner, at the playground, beside the swing. He had been watching with wide, stormy grey-blue eyes. He had seen his father raise his fist; he had seen several other fathers trying to hit the headmaster. He could see the wives of the men with their arms around their children, sounding righteous and justified as they insulted the headmaster, criticized the ill child. He could hear, amidst the noise, the barking of the dogs, the loud, shrill voice of the little boy, and the sobs of the sick boy.

Leon also remembers that he did nothing to help.

He sighs as he picks up his school bag from the corner of the kitchen and starts his walk to school.

He never saw the boy again, not after that day at the kindergarten. The headmaster had said that the poor boy had been sent to hospital, for his mental health was failing, and his physical health wasn't doing much better anymore. He said that the boy was much better off without the hullabaloo of daily life, without all the criticism he received. The headmaster had also said judiciously that people should not be discriminated because they're sick. They're suffering, too.

Leon knows the boy was suffering. Everyday at the kindergarten, the boy was mercilessly picked on. He was called names; he was bullied, knocked around and stepped all over on. Leon wanted so many times to help, but he didn't want to go against his friends. He regrets it now. He regrets not helping, when he was the given the chance. He feels angry, and he always feels the empty hole in his heart. It was a place not filled, not filled because he didn't help the boy when he had the chance to.

Sometimes when he walks to school, he thinks of how different all of it might have been. Maybe…if people hadn't been so mean, if he had stood up for the boy as well, would the boy be his friend right now? Would the boy walk with him to school? Would he be Leon's confidante and best friend? Might there be something more? So many questions, so many possibilities – all vanquished because Leon didn't have the courage to make the difference.

He wonders as the school comes into his sight, where the boy might be now.

* * *

Sora has not had a day when he does not smile. 

He smiles in spite of everything. His heart sometimes feels like it's going to crumble and shatter, but he still smiles. He smiles for the sake of everybody. He smiles for the sake of his best friend – Roxas, for his boyfriend – Riku, for his older brother – Leon and for his parents. He tries to make everything seem all right, when everything isn't really quite.

He notices Roxas's weary, fatigued look every morning. Roxas looks more tired by the day, his blue eyes duller with each passing moment. His movements are sluggish, his attitude in homework and school ridiculous. He looks worried and he doesn't ever really smile. But then, Sora thinks – what reason has he to smile? His brother is in hospital, his father is struggling with bills, and he has two people and two dogs to feed plus a hospital bill that increases each day.

Then there is Riku, whose parents splitting up. Sora notices Riku's irritated, angry, hurt face everyday. He tries to bring his parents back together, but it isn't working. Sora knows he can't help much, but he tries. He does try.

And Leon, who seems detached from life. It's almost like he thinks life has no meaning. He goes on everybody with this blank, expressionless face. Sure, he's a straight-A student, with thousands of admirers. He's the best runner on the school track team, his grades are flawless and he's the family favourite. But it's almost as if his life is too monotonous for him. So Sora smiles, hoping that will add more light to his brother's life, add more colour to his brother's black and white world.

People say smiles can change lives.

But Sora, with aching face muscles and a heart that's aching even more, doesn't believe that anymore.

* * *

Roxas feels crushed by burden that constantly piles up on his shoulders. 

Each day, his life is painfully the same. His father comes home, looking weary and tired, with a stack of letters tucked under one arm – most of them coloured an angry red. His father will then proceed to eat a short dinner, and then retire to his room, where Roxas knows he stays up all night trying to sort out bills, and wrecking over how to pay for them.

When his father goes to bed, Roxas has to secretly feed the two dogs in the house – Bobby, nicknamed for Bobbin Greyfair and Toby, short for Tobias. Bobby is a small white dog with brown puddles. He's a little chubby, with long droopy ears, and with sweet black eyes. Toby is bigger – a mongrel of some type picked off the street. He's leaner, and taller than Bobby with a straight fall of longish fair hair, and bright blue eyes. Roxas has made up thousands of parent possibilities for Toby.

Roxas knows his father doesn't like the dogs being fed, because that takes money. But Roxas refuses to let his two only real friends in the house starve. So he feeds Bobby and Toby, often off his own plate. If there's no enough, he rummages all over the house, sometimes even in the trashcan.

Life is miserable and hard for him, but Roxas doesn't give up.

When his father leaves the letters he has finished looking through on the table, Roxas will take his turn to go through them.

With a cup of icy cold water next to him, and Bobby and Toby curled up at his feet, Roxas will look through the bills. He'll learn that bailiffs have threatened to barge into the hospital, that their credit card is expired, but there is still a robustly large amount of money to pay, that the electric and water company have threatened to cut supply to the house in a week if a certain amount isn't paid up. Roxas drifts through all of these like it is a dream. But he keeps his mind alert; his eyes open when the hospital bill comes.

Each night his brother spends at the hospital costs a fortune. One night can pay for two of the red letters, but Roxas's father is adamant that his eldest son comes first.

"After Cloud gets well," he would always say. Roxas feels like tearing at his hair, and telling his father that his brother would probably never come closer to recovering, but he keeps quiet, for the sake of the man who's already trying so hard.

Roxas starts at the increasing amount written on the hospital bill each time it comes. For each night, for each treatment, for each test, for each scan – everything must be paid for. Nothing is subsidized, for no charity has stepped up to offer subsidising.

Once he has finished looking through the letters, Roxas goes to the living room. He sleeps on the sofa and does his homework on the coffee table. He has forced his father to use the only room in the house, and he was so determined that his father finally gave in. Roxas would sleep in the small living room, trying to block out the numbers in his head. Bobby and Toby snuggle next to him in the couch, and Roxas fantasizes in his head, dreams about how everything would get better, once his brother was home.

He fantasizes, dreams, imagines – but they never become reality.

* * *

"You're doing much better, honey," Lenne says in an encouraging voice. 

Cloud nods impassively.

"See right here?" Lenne says, holding up his right hand, while his fingers look burnt to the tip. "Look? It isn't so black anymore. I'm sure Dr Auron can find something to speed up the process."

Cloud feels something unhopeful.

"Does it still hurt?" Lenne asks softly.

He shakes his head, trying to take his hand back. Lenne lets it go, and smiles brightly. Cloud glances at her momentarily, but turns away quickly before she notices he's staring. There are few people in the hospital who notice Cloud, and even lesser who dare to talk to him.

Lenne pets him on his head, and affectionately runs her hand through his hair, before straightening and picking her clipboard up from the small table next to the cot. "I'll be back later again," she tells him, "Be good, okay? Yuna might come around later. To see if you're doing okay. Dr Auron and Tidus will be here tonight. I'll get Dr Auron to give you something, okay? And do you want more painkillers?"

Cloud shakes his head, and watches Lenne leave the room.

Once he's sure she's gone, he stares at his own hand. And true enough, what had once been a pitch-black had changed into a light greyish tinge overnight. Cloud's eyes are filled with a little disbelief, and his head spins a little. He pushes the sleeve of his hospital shirt back, and for the first time in almost ten years, he sees the creamy white that is his skin.

* * *

Leon does not have a girlfriend. 

This is because he doesn't really like girls all that much. Well, to be honest – he doesn't really like anybody in the first place. There are only a few people he really considers as his friends.

There is Aerith Garrinsbough, quiet and reclusive, but kind and compassionate. She sits next to him in class, always there to help. Her soft emerald eyes can melt anyone's heart. There is Yuffie Kisaragi, hyperactive, excited and always on the move. She's the descendant of a family of ninjas, and takes every opportunity to hurl someone else's pens and pencils at the people who cross her. There is also Axel Maximillan, who is his best friend and his exact opposite. Whilst Leon is silent and reserved, Axel is outgoing, loud and everything regarding the word 'fun'. That's Axel.

He arrives at the school, and a horde of girls are already by the girls, ready to greet him. It's routine – the girls at the gate, the boys at the front door. Not that he initiated this – they did it for no real reason. Leon is too tired to tell them to stop, for he's already told them countless times to stop the unbelievable rubbish. So he goes along with it, feeling lame and exposed.

The sensible ones stay in class, and Axel always leans against the wall opposite of the classroom door, greeting Leon with a "Yo!" Leon usually mutters an incoherent "Hello" in return. Then he wishes he can just disappear, as he gets assaulted in the classroom.

"Did you watch the sitcom last night?" Axel asks. "Hyne, it sucked, didn't it?"

Leon mumbles something that sounds relatively close to a "yeah", but he knows he doesn't watch television. He takes out his book and tries to revise for their science test today, and lets Axel fill up the silence with senseless prattling.

"Josie Ignation can't _act_, for Gaia's sake," Axel grumbled. "And no offence, but Kan Royston looks like a stone block. And honestly, I'm never going to watch that sitcom ever again. It totally sucks. I don't even understand the storyline! It's so ridiculously complicated, really. And it's supposed to be a _sitcom_."

Leon listens to Axel continue to talk, and watches as the school turns rowdy without the presence of a teacher, and wonders just what is he doing.

* * *

Dr Auron Rourke comes at night with his assistant, Tidus Keifer, just like Lenne said they would. 

Dr Auron is about six feet tall, towering and imposing-looking. But beneath that hardened face, there is a much nicer person beneath, a person who can smile and make jokes. That's what makes Tidus Keifer look up to him so much. Tidus Keifer is a trainee doctor, who follows Dr Auron everywhere like a dog.

Tidus's girlfriend is Yuna. Yuna and Lenne are twins, with Lenne being the older.

Cloud doesn't move when Dr Auron pulls a chair up next to him, sits down and picks up his hand – the same one Lenne took, the same one he stared endlessly at for hours, marvelling at the small revealing of white skin.

Dr Auron scrutinizes the same spot, touching both black, white and grey skin with no fear. Cloud feels at ease. If only everyone in the world would be like Dr Auron, unafraid, caring and generous – then maybe Cloud will revise his opinion of everything. But once again, this is reality, not a television show.

The doctor stares for a few moments, before a smile cracks his normally serious face. Cloud's heart feels light, and he stares at the doctor. Tidus Keifer is smiling broadly behind the doctor, his tanned hands clasped around a bottle of medication.

"You're doing extremely well, my boy," Dr Auron says, his voice jovial. "It's excellent progress. You're making the fastest recovery of geostigma in the history of mankind. You should be proud of yourself."

Cloud shuddered. If ten years was supposed to be groundbreaking, he didn't want to think about other victims of the same disease. Instead he tries to focus on Tidus passing Dr Auron the bottle he was holding. Dr Auron then takes it, and sets it on the bedside table carefully, the smile gone from his face, his eyes solemn once more.

"I specially ordered this from Midgar," Dr Auron says, pointing to the bottle. "It will speed up in removing the scars. If you constantly take it properly for the next two weeks, I can assure you that by then, your skin will be flawless. Except maybe for your left arm, where it all started. It will take a little longer to rid the scars there, but eventually they'll be gone, too. I ordered this for you the first time you came to this hospital. I never imagined you'd get to use it so soon. Lenne will help you take the medicine – you don't have to do it on your own. Tidus and I will continue to check on you everyday."

"This is great," Tidus beams down at Cloud. "You're getting better. Thank Shiva! When you're better, I'll give you Blitzball lessons! You know, the game you like to watch on TV?"

The blonde cannot help, but let his lips twitch just a little bit upwards.

"You shouldn't be making such big plans yet," Dr Auron says jokingly. "Cloud hasn't been out of bed for almost ten years, Tidus. He's going to have to learn to walk around first."

"Yes, but when he does," Tidus's blue eyes sparkle with so much hope that Cloud can almost feel it in his chest, bubbling up from beneath his diseased skin. "We'll have fun, then."

* * *

_Three Weeks Later:_

Roxas presses his face into his hands during math class. He's sick and tired of algebra, of geometry, of fractions and of perimeters. He doesn't want to see numbers anymore. He can't take the sight of numbers.

_I'm sorry, but we must have your overdue payment of $3000… _

_Sir, you owe us $1700… _

_Your electric bill for the month is… _

He groans, as his head spins painfully.

"Roxas? Are you feeling alright?" Quistis Trepe asks lightly.

Roxas's cheeks burn as the whole class turns to look at him. He nods his head quickly, signalling for Quistis Trepe to go on with her explanations. He tries to look attentive, but his body is failing him badly. His eyes threaten to close, but he keeps them open.

Sora, sitting next to him – pokes him with a pen.

"What's wrong?" he asks, blue eyes filled with worry and anxiety. Roxas momentarily feels sick with himself – he's not only affecting himself, but those around him.

"It's alright," he replies, trying to make Sora smile the bright, cheery smile he knows so well. "I'm just sleepy."

Sora doesn't look convinced, but he nods and turns away anyway, back to scribbling notes while throwing side-glances at Roxas. Roxas's stomach starts to churn uncomfortably, and he's quite certain he's going to throw up. He tries not to think about what he had for lunch, because that makes his stomach heave even more. He's sure his skin is a alien-green by now, and some of the girls are giggling and pointing at him.

He wishes he doesn't have to do this.

He wishes he can just stay home with his father. He wishes he can sit with his father all day long without fear of bills, without fear of bailiffs, without fear of homework and exams. He wishes he can go to school for at least one day, and not worry that the brother he's never got to see doesn't die that very morning. Doesn't fade away. Doesn't let go of that last string that's holding him to this world.

When the lesson is over, Roxas is first out of the classroom, first out of the school, first onto the courtyard. He breathes in the fresh air – like a thirsty man dying for liquid, like a starved beggar seeing food, like a drowning man seeing the surface. His stomach feels relatively better; his head isn't so nauseous anymore.

He just stands still, inhaling and exhaling. As he looks up and casts a fast glance around the courtyard and past the school gates, his eyes catch a blinding flash of bronzed gold hair, and he immediately backtracks.

There's a young teenager standing by the gates, his body half under the dappled shade of a tree, half in the open sunlight that turns his spiky, yellowish gold hair a rustic bronze. His eyes are blue – not the light blue of a pale summer sky, not with the brightness of an aquamarine, but the oceanic coolness of a sapphire. A deep blue – two swirling pools of the liquidized stone that makes Roxas feel like he's drowning into their pressing, but gentle gaze. The teenager looks very thin, as if he's been sick for a long time, though it doesn't really show on his face, except for the faint bruises beneath his eyes that told of probable gauntness from before. Still, his legs and arms look slender, his entire frame fragile and lithe. He looks soft, his entire being with a touch of femininity.

Yet he is frighteningly, ethereally beautiful. His skin is marble white, smooth, flawless and creamy. His features are defined, his cheekbones set high. His face is a little bony, like the rest of his body, but that isn't much of a flaw. He has his head tilted slightly to the side, as he leans against one of the gateposts, and the sweet curve of his lean neck is revealed. His hips are too narrow, his waist thinner than Roxas's, like he hasn't been eating much. Everything about him looking fragile and cherubic.

His blonde locks fell around his face, but is spiky everywhere else. Some errant locks fall into his dazzling eyes, and Roxas's breath is taken away.

And yet…in spite of it all…there is something familiar about this boy. Like something taken off from a far off memory. He looks like someone from so far along before that Roxas can't even picture the face, but there is still familiarity.

As the courtyard fills with more students, everyone's attention is fixed on the stranger. The boy is dressed in a long-sleeved, white collared shirt that almost covers his smallish, thin hands. Black jeans follow the shape of his thin legs perfectly.

The stranger takes a step forward, and it's not long before everyone realizes he's walking towards Roxas.

It's then that Roxas sees so much of himself in the stranger. Though their eyes are of different hues, though the stranger's hair is much spikier than his, though his skin is creamier than his own, though his face are much more effeminate than his, it almost looks like they were taken out of the same picture.

"Roxas," the stranger breathes, and Roxas smells his sweet breath. His voice is twinkling and fair, musical and almost velvety.

Before Roxas can do anything in response, the stranger has wrapped his arms around Roxas, gentle breath tickling his hair, thin, slender arms loosely winding around his waist. The stranger bends down a little, for he is a whole head taller than Roxas.

"Roxas," the boy says again, and tightens his hold. Roxas doesn't pull away. The embrace is comforting – it provides him with warmth and security, something he's not had for a long time. The heavy weight has been taken off his shoulders.

"Who are you?" Roxas manages to ask softly, a minute later. He's still in that gentle, alluring embrace.

The stranger pulls away, and a small smile graces his beautiful face. Blonde locks fall into his eyes, brushing against his cheeks. Blue eyes sparkle in the sunlight, bronzed gold hair contrasting with the creamy-white complexion of the boy. Roxas's heart stops, when the answer he already knows comes out.

"Roxas," the stranger says, "I'm your brother."

* * *

I think everything is still a little vague. I hope everything becomes a little clearer as the story goes on. 

Once again, please review and give me your comments!


	2. Chapter 2: Day One

Geostigma Kills

By: Evantis

* * *

Rated: M

Summary: Freak. Monster. Ugly. That was all Cloud knew himself as. Timid. Alone. Scared. That was how he lived. But not anymore. LeonCloud

For Nut. This chapter is also dedicated to all the wonderful reviewers of the first chapter. I really appreciated them!

This is Chapter Two. Um, well…I don't know if it'll be as good as the first, but anyway I just really want to thank everyone who reviewed. I really, really, really, really am grateful! I hope you'll review again. XD

Note: This fic contains implied sex in later chapters. Nothing graphic, but if it still bothers you, then just press the back button. The pairing is mainly LeonCloud, but there is Akuroku, a little RikuSora, implied TidusYuna, and if you squint, maybe you can interpret AuronTidus. Also, geostigma is a disease taken from Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children. Though the disease is somewhat alike to the one I have in my story, most of the properties disease in this story are made up by me, and evolution I plan for it later is completely fictitious.

This chapter gives a clearer picture of Leon and Cloud's relationship in kindergarten. The last part is pretty vulgar. Um, Leon and Cloud meet…Riku is quite the pissy bastard.

Please read, enjoy and review! X)

* * *

_Chapter Two_: Day One – Meeting

-

Leon watches everything from afar. He has seen the stranger, and his excellent memory proves useful in times like this. He already knows this boy. It's the boy from so long ago. The boy who was thought of as ugly and repulsive, who was referred to as a monster, and a supposed outcast of society. The boy who was rejected and discriminated, forgotten with time and still insulted occasionally.

He stands still, as the stranger embraces a junior boy. A boy Leon has watched – the stranger's brother. Roxas Strife.

Roxas looks stunned – why wouldn't he be? – as the stranger simply captures him in breakable, thin arms. Leon watches with fascination as the stranger speaks softly, his mouth moving barely, as the brothers share a conversation Leon cannot hear. Who ever knew the ugly little boy from before actually held such inhuman beauty beneath?

Everyone in the courtyard is unmoving, simply watching the stranger. He's like something out of a fairytale – nobody has seen him before. His body looks so fragile, his face so delicately beautiful. Leon can hear his heart beating loudly in his ears, can feel the blood rush to his face. He wants nothing more than to kiss those pale lips, entangle his fingers in that smooth, spiky hair that looks an absolutely exotic bronze underneath the magnificent sun.

Leon watches, until the stranger leaves the school, with his younger brother.

* * *

"Toby," Cloud says, his face filled with glowing delight as the dog jumps into his welcoming arms.

Roxas watches as the dog jumps into his brother's frail-looking arms. Toby barks delightedly, and Bobby follows suit, barking deliriously as he fights for a place in Cloud's hug.

"Bobby," Cloud's voice is joyful.

Roxas just stares in dazed amazement. His very last memory of Cloud is vague and foggy. He only remembers a face half-devoured by geostigma, as the doctors finally say it's time to lock Cloud up. Roxas remembers trying to break out of his father's firm grasp and to hug the older brother he never really knew for the final time, but he wasn't given that chance. Cloud disappeared from his life, and everyone else's – just like that.

But now Cloud has returned in a way Roxas had never expected. He never expected to see his brother so healthy, never expected to see his eyes dance with so much light and life. From the first time Roxas had met him, he had this feeling Cloud would never get better. Cloud has always looked miserable, his clothes scruffy, his hair mussed and his eyes downcast in shame and desolation, but now he looks bubbling with life. A stark contrast from the usual feel of melancholy that surrounded him.

"Why didn't you say you were getting discharged?" Roxas asks stiffly. He feels like he's speaking to a stranger, though there is some truth in that. He can't even remember his last conversation with his elder brother, much less recognize him at school. His memory of Cloud and the things his older brother liked to do, eat and such are almost nonexistent. Perhaps they never even existed in the first place.

"I could go home," Cloud says softy, Toby and Bobby in his arms as he gracefully eases himself onto the sofa, "Last week. But there was the physiotherapy and everything, and, well – I know things haven't been going well for you and Dad. My doctor always tells me the bills are late, and at as a last resort, they're always paid by credits. I didn't want to burden you more, so I decided that I wouldn't come home, unless I can independently move around."

Roxas gives a sad smile, but he is touched nonetheless. Even now, Cloud is still trying his best to help everyone. Still being selfless, still…

"How're things going for you now?" Cloud asks, he looks worried, his eyes filling with anxiety. "Is…"

"Everything's fine," Roxas cuts in briefly. Then, he gives his older brother a big, encouraging smile. "At the very least, it's going to be."

* * *

"Roxas's brother is pretty, isn't he?" Sora asks timidly, as Leon stares blankly at the television screen. Sora highly doubts his brother is focusing on the programme, so there's no harm in interrupting.

"I guess," the brunette mumbles.

"Do you think he'll be attending our school?" Sora really does his best in making conversation with his brother. He really does. But sometimes he feels so sick with it.

"Maybe," Leon replies frankly, shifting on the sofa. "He might still have something to do at the hospital. Maybe he's not well enough yet."

"He looked well enough today," Sora objects.

"Well, then – maybe," Leon answers, and Sora can feel a migraine coming on.

"He looks your age," Sora comments. "Maybe he'll be in your class?"

"Maybe," Leon responds, switching the channel.

"Wouldn't you like that?"

"Maybe."

"Wasn't he in your kindergarten?"

For a moment, Sora notices as Leon's body tenses, the way he always does when he feels uncomfortable about a certain topic. But now that Sora's got his brother somewhat _attentive_, he's not going to stop.

"Wasn't he?" he presses.

"He was," Leon says matter-of-factly. "He was in my kindergarten class."

"Then you know each other!"

"Not the way you'd expect," Leon says darkly.

"I heard he was so ugly all the kids made fun of him," Sora says softly.

"That's true," Leon's voice is perturbed.

"And the parents went after him when he was six," Sora says. "Because his sickness went really bad."

"Our father," Leon says, his voice almost inaudible, "was part of it. He wanted him out of the school, too."

Sora doesn't say anything, both out of shock at the revelation, and that Leon has actually told him that. It's the first time Leon has been open with him, and Sora cherishes the moment, imprinting each second into his mind.

"Dad?" Sora's voice is barely above a whisper. "_Dad_?"

"Yeah," Leon bites his bottom lip. "Dad was part of it. He fought with the headmaster. You were there, too. But you were with Mom, standing a distance away. You probably can't remember it. It was terrible. And scary. There were so many people…and they all went against the headmaster, Roxas, his brother and their father. Well, in the end – they won, of course. They threatened to call the health authorities."

"But geostigma isn't classified as contagious!" Sora protests, outraged.

"It'll be the day when people believe that," Leon murmurs. "In those days, and even now – geostigma is believed to be contagious. It isn't, but that doesn't stop the rumours circulating, the stories going around. People are scared, and when people are scared, they only think about themselves. They don't think about the person they want to hurt. Anyway, Roxas's father didn't want to make a fuss out of everything, and his son was already sick enough, so maybe it was best he went to the hospital."

"Roxas told me they locked him completely up a year after that," Sora says quietly. "Roxas says he can't remember much, but he remembers the doctor telling about it. He says he never got to see his brother after that. Their only contact with the hospital was the bills. They had to pay for the treatments and everything."

"Well," Leon returns his attention to the television, "It's different now."

* * *

"_Ha! Look at him!"_

"_Ew, he's so _ugly_!"_

"_Hahaha, are you going home to cry to your daddy now?"_

"_He's _so_ ugly! No wonder his mommy didn't want him!"_

"_Seifer, give him another one!"_

_Leon watches quietly. He sits on a swing, rocking back and forth slowly, small hands curled around the chains of the swing. The leather feels worn beneath him, his feet knocking into the sand with each swing. He watches, his grey eyes emotionless as a large blonde boy happily raises his fist, and crushes it against a small back._

"_C'mon, you little wretch," Leon hears the bully taunt. The snide remarks and mocking laughter of the other children fills the air. Leon continues to watch, his eyes never leaving the small body on the ground, dirty, beaten and bruised, shaking with the tremors of his violent sobs. The brunette swings in his back and forth motion again._

"_Ugly! He looks like a _monster_!"_

"_How can _anyone_ be so ugly?"_

"_Little loser, stand up and fight!" the blonde bully grabs the small child's arm roughly, and suddenly lets go with a yelp, wiping his hand repeatedly on his shirt. "Ew! Did I just _touch_ your disgusting arm?"_

_The boy lands on the ground again, sand dusting his blonde hair, getting into his reddened, raw eyes. He covers his face with his hands, drawing his knees to his chest protectively. Salty, dirt-mingled tears seep out from between his skinny, knobbly fingers. He hugs his left arm, rocking himself back and forth. Leon watches, his eyes paying attention to every intricate detail of the child. His continuous rocking, his increasing convulses, the rapid flow of his tears._

_The children run away, their feet making sand fly up and into the boy's already badly irritated eyes. Leon watches, his swinging come to a gradual halt as the small blonde boy pushes himself up on shaking hands, his ruffled, torn clothes barely managing to hang onto his skinny body. Leon can see the red, bleeding grazes on his knees, the cut on his alabaster cheek, and as the boy finally manages to sit up, Leon gazes at the growing black patterns reaching out like a hand to swallow the boy's face. Leon shudders, his hands tightening around the chains, as he sees the diseased flesh. Did it hurt the boy?_

_Leon doesn't move even when the boy finally crumbles. He curls his body into a ball of quivering flesh, and hugs his knees desperately, crying into his knobbly knees. As the boy raises his hands to cover his head, Leon sees the source of the blackness – the horrible swirl that creeps out of the left arm._

_Minutes pass, and the boy is still curled in the middle of the sandbox._

_Leon slowly lets go of the chains, and moves to his feet. His eyes scan the area for a final time, to make sure none of the children are left. And then he slowly starts to talk towards the crying child._

_He stops in front of the boy._

_Sparkling with tears, a pair of hurt blue eyes looks at him. They're red-raw from crying and the entrance of sand particles. Leon feels something in his heart wrench at the pitiful sight. The boy's blue eyes change from hurt to curiosity, but Leon can see the tears haven't left._

"_**Son, don't ever touch that boy."**_

Leon flinches, and takes a hesitant step back. The boy's eyes look hurt again, and he seems to curl within himself even more. Leon bites his bottom lip, and clenches his small fists. He doesn't want to leave the boy like this – sand mixed in his pale yellow hair, knees pressed against his chest and arms wrapped around them. It looks wrong.

"_**If you touch him, you'll get sick."**_

Leon sees the black. That horrible thing Leon doesn't understand – crawling up the boy's neck, wrapping itself around it, and splaying its fingers over a small chin, reaching up to the boy's left eye, almost touching.

"_**Sick like he is."**_

He gulps. But he takes a step forward and extends a trembling hand to the sandy-haired boy. The boy's eyes widen, and he looks at the hand like it's a foreign object, his blue eyes swirling with confusion, surprise and was that – hope?

_Leon tries to steady his hand, tries to fight back the urge to pull it back. The boy stares at his hand for half a minute, and slowly – _slowly_, a bony hand reaches out. Leon tries not to focus on the crawling disease that threatens to envelope the last remaining uninfected limb of the sick body. He tries. He tries. He tries. He –_

"_**Don't **__**ever**__** touch that boy."**_

Black.

_Black._

_Disease._

_Sick._

_**Black.**_

_Leon retracts his hand sharply, and takes hurried steps backwards. He can hear his heart pounding in his ears, he can feel the adrenaline in his veins, and he tries not to notice as the boy's eyes cloud with tears again. Leon forces himself to look away as the boy buries his face in his knees, and his whole body begins to tremble with harsh sobs again._

_He doesn't do anything. But he turns, and runs._

Leon jerks from his bed, sitting up abruptly, breath wheezing out of his lungs. He presses a hand against his cold, sweaty forehead.

That dream again. That piece of memory Leon wanted to forget.

_Blue eyes…pain…hurt…_rejection.

Leon reaches for the bottle of water on his bedside table, and thirstily takes in a few heavy gulps. Then he lays back down, pulls the blanket over himself again and tries to sleep.

* * *

"How do I look?" Cloud questions, staring at himself in the mirror.

Roxas smirks. "Dashing. Everyone's going to drop like flies at your feet."

"I wouldn't go that far," Cloud laughs. Roxas can't get enough of that sweet laugh that sounds like bells. It isn't like the sick simpering girls like the senior girls – for example, Rinoa Heartilly – liked to do. It wasn't the manly laugh of a rough, tough guy like Seifer Almasy. It wasn't deep and earth shattering like the music master, but just right. In the middle. Soft and harmonious. A sweet, tinkling sound.

"The uniform looks too good on you," Roxas says jealously.

And it really did. Whilst uniforms looked plain and boring on most people, it seemed to look attractive on Cloud. The white shirt was a little too big for Cloud, and he kept the first button undone. A long-sleeved black jacket was thrown over smartly, but Cloud left it open. After years in the freezing cold of the hospital, he said, it's hard to feel affected by anything like it. The black trousers were straight and immaculate. His black shoes had been polished, and they looked perfect. Though everything had been from a second-hand shop, Roxas had tediously helped Cloud clean everything up, till it looked almost new.

"We're going to be late," Cloud smiles, fondly petting Toby and Bobby on the head as he picks up his schoolbag and starts out of the room.

"What's for breakfast?" Roxas asks.

"Dad said he was making pancakes. He's left for work already, though."

Roxas grins as he slides into a chair and starts to fill his mouth with pancakes. This morning is different from all the mornings he's had. This morning, he's not alone. He's not cleaning up after he eats. He's not deafened by silence. He has a companion now – a friend, a brother. The lonely days are over.

"Meet you at the gate after school?" Roxas grins.

Cloud smiles back, his entrancing liquid sapphire eyes dancing.

They don't need an answer for that.

* * *

Cloud doesn't remember his days in kindergarten much. His image of school is mainly that of hurt and physical and mental abuse. He doesn't remember his kindergarten being much of a safe haven for him, he doesn't remember any comfort and warmth there. But Roxas assures him that this time – it's going to be different.

His mind is wrought with a thousand different emotions. He doesn't know if going to school is a good thing.

In his mind, a dark part of him says that if it wasn't for his sudden change in appearance, he would never be accepted into society. But his heart constantly tells him that it's time to give everyone a second chance.

He walks to his classroom, albeit confusedly. Roxas has already left for his junior class, and Cloud is left alone to find his way. His brother managed to point to him the general direction of his classroom, but Cloud still has to find it himself.

He wanders aimlessly along the hallway, trying not to feel the eyes of so many people on him. For Gaia's sake, instead of goggling at him, perhaps they could be a little more helpful? Is it so unobvious that he's lost? Can't anybody tell?

A little frustrated, he still continues his way.

But he realizes he's past the same toilet twice, and now he's getting worried. What if he's late for his first class? That isn't exactly how he planned to start his first day.

"Are you lost?"

That is just the very question Cloud had been dying to hear. He looks up, and sees a teen half a head taller than him.

It's a brunette boy, with silky, chocolate hair that falls to his shoulders and a little ways below. His eyes are a cool, gunmetal grey-blue. They look almost metallic, but they seem to swirl like a storm. His uniform is immaculate, and he wears it like a good student would – with everything buttoned up, though he doesn't tuck his shirt in. He's averting his gaze as much as he can, almost as if he's embarrassed. Over one shoulder, he slings a black haversack.

He's taller than Cloud, with a clearly stronger body. He looks somewhat lean, but it isn't that hard to make out the gentle rippling of muscles beneath the soft uniform cloth.

Cloud scrutinizes the boy, feeling something familiar about him.

Hand reaching out to him.

_A boy, bigger than him – with contemplative grey-blue eyes._

_A boy trying to help him._

_A boy running away._

"You," Cloud says, his voice a mixture of anger, surprise and hurt.

The brunette stares down at him, his stormy eyes swimming with regret, sorrow and something Cloud cannot quite decipher. "I'm sorry," his voice is suave, smooth. It may have been seductive, if he wasn't so tense. But it's quiet, like Cloud's own. "I…"

Cloud turns away, unsure of what to say.

"I'm sorry," the brunette apologizes yet again, shaking his head. "I was a coward."

Emotions roil in Cloud. He doesn't know to say to this total stranger, but it is a boy he's met, known before. He doesn't know if the feeling bubbling up his chest is that of hatred, anger, hurt or just a will to forgive. He doesn't know this feeling – it's a mixture of so many things. Cloud looks into those stormy eyes, and he finds his voice. "It's not really your fault," he says, turning away. Why is saying this? Why is being so nice? This is the boy who made a lousy attempt to help him. This is the boy who turned away, just like everyone else. Most of all, this is the boy who once looked at him with those eyes.

"I'm really sorry."

"Stop apologizing," Cloud makes a feeble attempt at a smile. "At least…you were nicer."

The brunette lowers his head slightly. "Umm…where's your classroom?"

Cloud looks at the paper in his hand and frowns. "Someplace called A4-02."

The brunette turns a light shade of pink. Is that a blush? "Umm…we're in the same class. Well, I'll take you there, then. It's on the fourth floor, that's it's called "A4" because it's on the fourth floor. "02" is the number of the room. But you still have to look at the floor number, as there's usually rooms one to ten on every floor."

"Oh…thanks," Cloud says, looking down at the paper in his hands.

"I'm Leon," the teenager says, refusing to make eye contact. Cloud isn't sure if it's out of regret or humiliation. "Well, umm – it's nice to meet you."

Cloud forces the other boy in direct visual contact, his brilliant blue eyes boring into Leon's metallic ones. He doesn't offer any pleasantries or introductions in return, but simply says, "Squall Leonhart."

* * *

Sora is quite sure that Riku looks more dejected than usual today.

His green eyes are tired, his skin looks pallid and his face seems hollowed out. His silver hair looks like it's lost its shine and is limply falling on his shoulders.

"Good morning," Sora says timidly.

"Morning," Riku grunts, and sidles into his seat.

"Did something happen?" Sora asks, almost frightened of the answer.

As he should very well be.

"My father's a fucking bastard," Riku explodes. "He fucking _hit_ my mom last night. _Fuck_ that man!"

Sora flinches, as students around the classroom turn to stare at Riku. At that moment, Roxas enters the classroom, and a buoyant mood is practically radiating off him. His eyes are twinkling with more life than before, he walks almost with a skip. He looks so happy, and Sora feels happy for him, and knows he would feel happier still, if Riku wasn't in such a bad mood.

"What's wrong?" Roxas asks noncommittally. He's used to seeing Riku in his tempers, and usually keeps out of it, though he always asks "what's wrong?" Sora usually doesn't reply, as Riku does it himself.

"Everything's fucking wrong," Riku says snappishly. "Fucking _wrong_. Except for you, of course. Your lovely brother's back from hospital, isn't he? And he's fucking _beautiful_, isn't he? I saw him yesterday. _Hah_. Half the guys and all the girls are gonna be after him. You can happily watch as he sells himself into some sort of cheap who –"

Roxas moves so fast that Sora can't see. In less than a second, the smaller boy had hurtled himself into Riku, and shoved the both of them onto the floor. Roxas is roaring with rage, as he attempts to punch Riku, who seems screams back more colourful curses, and tries to fight Roxas off, all the way shooting punches and hits at every chance he gets.

The students start to crowd around, trying to pull Roxas off, but Roxas adamantly holds onto Riku's shirt, and punches the silver-haired boy as much as he can. He lets out a feral roar, and accurately aims a particularly violent punch into the other boy's cheek, initiating the swelling of a dark, purplish bruise. Riku's green eyes are mad with fury, as he claws at Roxas, managing to leave a few scratches on Roxas's cheeks. The blonde returns these hits by shooting a well-aimed punch at Riku's chin. Sora thinks he heard the sickening crack and he winces, closing his eyes.

"You don't fucking vent your Hyne-damned anger on _my brother_! He's got nothing to do with this! It's not his fault that your parents are splitting up! Don't fucking drag him into this!"

"Well, you might want to try being more _sensitive_! Not everyone on this fucking planet is happy! Open your fucking eyes, Roxas!"

"Too fucking _bad_!"

"_Fuck you_!"

_What's happening?_

"Stop it, the both of you!" he cries out, his hands on Roxas's shoulders, desperately pulling the boy back. "Please!"

"Get the damn teacher!" one of the boys in the class yell, and three girls hurtle out of the classroom hastily.

A particularly big-sized boy manages to yank Roxas off at last. Sora takes a look at his best friend, to see blood dripping off the four parallel scratches on his cheek, the blind rage and vehemence in his eyes, and the vengeful movements of his hands as he tries to get back onto Riku. His shoulders heave with heavy breaths, his fists shake.

Riku is being restrained by two other boys. His silver hair has fallen into his burning eyes, his fists are clenched till his knuckles are white, and he struggles with an unyielding desperation to hit Roxas.

Sora feels so utterly helpless. He wants to do _something_, but he knows nothing he does can fix this. He clenches his fists and grits his teeth, forcing the tears out of his eyes. He doesn't want this. He doesn't want to see a lifelong friendship fall into pieces, but he doesn't want to destroy the precious relationship with Riku. He doesn't want to see the collected hatred in Roxas's eyes, all directed towards Riku. He doesn't want to see Riku do the same, his face contorted with rage, filled with abhorrence and loathing.

Sora has tried to be a best friend, and a boyfriend. He's also tried to be a younger brother. He still can't help but feel he's failed so miserably.

Roxas flails his arms and legs, furious screams erupting from his throat. Sora looks away, feeling the tears pricking at the corner of his eyes.

_What have we all come to at last?_

The teacher finally comes in.

* * *

Well, maybe everything is still kind of vague-ish. I have a bad habit of dragging my stories. Some of you may wonder why (starting from this chapter to a certain point), the chapters will be titled Day-Something – Something, but you'll find out about that later! XD Might not turn out to be a happy thing for some, though…

'Kay, I really appreciate any reviews that come my way! Please review and give me your comments!


End file.
